


Black Wings

by necrofancy



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Passionate Sex, Pre-Apocalypse, whiskey is a hell of a thing, will update with progression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrofancy/pseuds/necrofancy
Summary: AU/Pre-apocalypse Negan, semi-noir-ish. Negan doesn't seem the type to let whiskey soften his heart and go calling on an old flame, but he's also a man full of surprises.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title and intro quote are from a Tom Waits’ songs, whose music typically remind me of Negan’s style: gruff yet poetic ;) (I could easily argue that for Nick Cave as well, his lyrics may crop up in later chapters.)
> 
> I'm not entirely sure where this one is headed, which is unusual for me, but the feedback I've gotten so far is encouraging. (I'm working on three fics right now, so please be patient with my sporadic updates.)
> 
> Also posted on my Tumblr: http://coco-monster.tumblr.com/post/153370177867/black-wings-pt-1

 

_And I admit that I ain’t no angel_  
_I admit that I ain’t no saint_  
I’m selfish and I’m cruel but you’re blind  
If I exorcise my devils  
Well my angels may leave too  
When they leave they’re so hard to find.  
_-Tom Waits_

“Hey, doll.”

“Who is this?”

“Oh, c’mon, baby, you’ll break my heart.”

“Jesus, Negan, I can smell the whiskey through the phone.” There was heavy sigh from the other end of the line. “You’re not driving are you?”

Negan thumbed at the peeling labeling affixed to to plastic phone box idly, leaning his back against the plexiglass doors just barely muffling the sounds of the highway.

“I was thinking about you,” he began, dropping his voice lower.

“Negan, don’t.”

“C’mon, Janie, I know you miss it too.”

“Call a cab and go get yourself sober. I’m not doing this.”

“Janie, babe, you remember all those nights.” He leaned forward, resting his head against the corner of the phone booth, covered in nonspecific stains and sharpie graffiti. He picked at a crack in the receiver. “All those nights I had you _screaming_ , baby. I know you remember that.”

There was a pause. Negan wondering for a moment if she actually had had enough and hung up on him.

“What do you want, Negan?”

“I guess me sayin’ ‘to be balls deep in that pussy again’ ain’t the answer you wanna hear.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait, wait.” He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his neck. “Shit. I just fucking miss you, alright?”

“You sure you got that word order right?”

Negan smirked. A firecracker, like always. She always knew how to make him crawl back to her like a stray dog, howling outside her window, without doing a damn thing.

“Seriously, you’re not driving, right? I don’t need you dying on me.”

“Of course not, babydoll. But I do appreciate the concern.” He leaned his forearm against the payphone again. “Listen, you, uh, doin’ anything tonight?”

“Why?”

“Want some company?”

“Not if it’s your drunk ass, no.”

“Janey, baby, look I know our last conversation-”

“Wasn’t such sweet sorrow?”

“You keep spouting poetry like that, you’re gonna make me fall in love.” He could practically hear the whiskey tumbler shattering on the wall behind him as if it had just happened.

The automated computer voice announced that if he’d like to continue the call, he’d have to insert another quarter. He let out a groan.

“Negan,” she began. “You can’t keep doing this.”

He toed at the phonebook beaten half to hell on the filthy floor of the phone booth.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I just-”

“Go home, Negan.”

The line went dead. He replaced the receiver, harder than was necessary but not quite slamming it. He reached into his jacket pocket, only to find an empty pack of cigarettes, forgetting he’d smoked the last one not even half an hour ago. Cursing under his breath, he shoved the booth’s door open and stumbled out into the brisk night air, doing little to clear his head as he sauntered back towards the bar. One more round wouldn’t kill him.

It didn’t take long to hail a cab, although the two that passed without so much as a moment’s hesitation were immediately flipped off. He gave the address to the driver, leaning back in this seat, flipping the lid of the ancient Zippo back and forth.

“No smoking in here,” the driver said gruffly.

Negan pocketed the lighter with a groan, for once not wanting to argue. It was nearly a twenty minute drive and he watched the numbers on the meter increase, something that sound have been a big fucking hint that he was making a mistake, but he had never been one for second guessing a decision. Even if it was a dumbass one.

The cab rolled to a halt, an empty beer can sliding forward from under his seat and bouncing off the back of his heel. He paid the driver and shambled into the winter air. The man drove off, leaving him in a haze of exhaust fumes. Negan eyed the house in front of him. The brick shotgun style home was smack in the middle of a neighborhood with jungle gyms in nearly every lawn. He would’ve questioned if he was in the right place if it wasn’t for its owner’s beat up red Geo Tracker sitting in the gravel driveway. The thing had seen better days, but hell, so had he.

He made his way up the poured concrete sidewalk leading up to the front door.

Shit.

He rapped his knuckles against the heavy oak door. The sudden disrupt in silence made a dog bark territorially in one of the neighboring homes. He knocked again, louder this time, leaning his hand against the doorway with a groan.

“Janie!” he called. “Janie, c’mon, I know you’re home.” He deliberately spoke at a volume he knew would coax her out in irritation. A light came on in the house next door only separated by a thin line of trees. “I got all night, baby,” he added in a singsong tone. The door swung open harshly, revealing a woman practically fuming with anger, clad in a black lace nightgown, a silk robe tied loosely around her waist.

“Negan, what the _hell_ are you doing? Do you know what time it is?” Her voice was a harsh whisper, her icey blue eyes flashed in the moonlight. Negan beamed down at her, still leaning against the doorframe.

“I have _neighbors_ , Negan,” she hissed. Her Georgian accent feel like honey from her lips, but the venom behind her words was unmistakable.

“Well, I wouldn’t have had to raise my voice if you’d just answered the door.” He half-yelled the last half of the sentence over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Christ, Negan, get in before you wake up the whole damn neighborhood.” She pulled him in by the lapel of his coat, slamming the door behind him. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, a vehement indignation still heavy on her face. Negan ran his tongue across his lower lip and cleared his throat.

“I feel like I’m in trouble here, doll.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t call me that.” She stomped over to the kitchen, swinging open the fridge. He followed behind her gingerly, taking in the view of her robe hitting just below the curve of her ass.

“You want coffee?” She called out flatly, bending over to reach for the bottle of creamer pushed back on the shelf.  

“Little late for that ain’t it, sweetheart? You’ll be up all night.” He reached out, running his fingers against the back of her thigh. She jumped and turned to face him, her mouth scrunched up in a grimace.

“The hell you think you’re doing?”

He opened his mouth to respond but she jumped right back in.

“I don’t hear from you in months, months, Negan. And you show up drunk off your ass and for what? Some sloppy romp to pass the time?”

“God, you’re fucking sexy when you’re mad.”

“I’m _serious_ , Negan,” she hissed back. Her robe had slipped down her shoulder, exposing the bare flesh beneath it. He reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder, sliding his thumb under the strap of her nightie. Her eyes burned into his. Although her expression had softened slightly, she still looked as if she was moments away from slapping him. Not that he would’ve minded that.

“Your hair’s darker,” he remarked softly, twirling an errant strand between his fingers. Janie tipped her head away, but not far enough to break the contact.

“Matches my heart.”

Her eyes bore into his. He could feel the heat rising in his chest. The smallest hint of a smile twitched in the corner of her mouth. He tipped his head closer to hers, almost touching her forehead. Her scent filled his nose; vanilla, a touch of something floral. But with a bite. It was enough to nearly consume him.

“Negan,” she said. His name on her lips was enough to make him weak. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I miss you, babe,” he smirked. “Ain’t that obvious?”

She placed her hands on the counter behind her, leaning her weight against her palms. This made her robe slide just slightly more open, giving a glimpse of the flesh beneath her collarbone leading down to the hemline of the deep plunging nightgown. Negan eyed the freshly exposed flesh hungrily.

“I don’t know about ‘obvious’. Desperate, maybe.” She peered up at him again from beneath a thick band of dark lashes. He placed his hand on her shoulder again, snaking his fingers behind her neck, tipping her head just slightly.

“Desperate, huh?” He brought his mouth down towards hers. He could feel her breath from her gentle exhales against his face. “Fuckin’ pathetic.”

He pulled her face to his, lips parted, his tongue snaking into her mouth. Her arms slung over his shoulders as he hoisted her onto the countertop, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. She pulled him close against her body by the collar of his jacket, her fingers then gripping his shoulders tightly as his own explored her neck and down her back. Her tongue flicked over his lips, something she knew always made him melt.

Negan placed his hand on the small of her back, bringing her closer to the edge of the counter. Sliding his hand down her side, he dragged his fingers along her bare leg, fingers spreading, to take in every inch of her he could, finally resting on her knee. She pulled back, gasping to catch her breath. They both paused, hands still grasped tightly to each other as if their lives depended on it, both still breathing hard. She bit her lip, placing her index finger on the clasp of his belt. Negan let out an amused sigh. 

“We moving this somewhere more comfortable?”

Janie gave the belt loop a quick yank, leaving it unfastened.

“You’re goddamn right we are.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the smutty bits!
> 
> Whew, and thanks for the patience, everyone! I appreciated the feedback :) If anyone is interested in more from these two, let me know and I'll keep writing!

_ There's a devil waiting outside your door  _

_ Bucking and braying and pawing the floor _

_ Well, he's howling with pain and crawling up the walls _

_ There's a devil waiting outside your door _

_ He's weak with evil and broken by the world _

_ He's shouting your name and asking for more _

_ There's a devil waiting outside your door _

_ -Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds _

  
  


Janey’s legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, Negan stepped back the counter, as their mouths locked once more. He trudged towards to her bedroom, remembering its location clearly from previous similar exploits, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other held out for guidance. Reaching the hallway, he pressed her back against the wall, holding her hands above her head. His lips made their way down to her neck, something he knew would always get her going, the scruff of his stubble scratching against her skin. She bit her lip, her eyes softly closed. Negan watched her intently, taking in every ragged breath, every barely audible moan that escaped her lips. 

 

His fingers brushed off the silk robe, sending it crumpling to the floor behind her feet. His mouth dropped further south, down past her collarbone, his fingers skimming over the thin fabric, leaving barely a boundary between her nipples, hardened by his touch, and his hands.  Janey arched her back, tangling her fingers in his hair. His hands reached the hem of the nightgown, pushing it up around her waist, his mouth caressing the tender flesh around her navel, his thumbs trailing over the curve of her hipbones. Negan’s mouth left small wet tracks in its wake, marking her flesh with where he’d been. He exhaled slowly against her skin, the warm air making her shudder beneath his grip.

Negan dropped to his knees, his mouth now resting above the black lace hem of her underwear. He glanced up at her, she was looking down at him, almost breathless with anticipation, her dark locks falling tousled in front of her eyes. His fingers slid into the waistband of the now superfluous garment, yanking them down, exposing her entirely to him. He kept his eyes locked on hers and brought his tongue to the entrance of her pussy, sliding it against her clit in one languid stroke. Her eyes clamped shut, one hand against the wall behind her, the other tightening in his hair. His tongue worked expertly against her, knowing every spot to focus on, his hands pulling her harder against him. Throaty moans were escaping her through freely as he moved, unsure of whether the wetness between her thighs was a result of her own arousal or his. He grabbed the back of her leg and slung it over his shoulder, thrusting his mouth hard enough against her pussy she was lifted off the ground for a moment. She cried out in pleasure, her clit throbbing, nearing her peak. Negan showed no signs of slowing as his tongue flicked over her clit and around her entrance. 

“Fuck,” Janey gasping under her breath, every muscle in her body tensing. Her cheeks were redding, small beads of sweat collecting on her forehead and the small of her back. His beard burned against her inner thighs as she grinding herself against his mouth. Her orgasm rippling through her and she came hard against his mouth, his tongue still stroking her clit in persistent motions. He pulled away from her as her moans quieted, standing and pressing his body against hers. She could easily feel his near-impossibly hard cock against her torso as his hands cupped her face, bringing her forehead to his. He was panting too, though not nearly as hard as she. Janey slung her arms over his shoulders and willed herself to look into his eyes. They were dark, hungry. Her legs were still trembling and there was a deep ache within her but the thought of stopping there felt insulting. She nodded in the direction of the bedroom. Negan smirked, lifting her off the ground again, her ankles locking behind his back.

Even if she tried, she couldn’t remember physically reaching the bedroom, just the feeling of his weight on top of her, her back against the cool cotton quilt on her bed. She rearranged things since he’d last set foot in the room, but somehow, like always, he knew exactly where they were headed.  

Negan reached between her legs, his fingers slipped into her effortlessly, still wet from her orgasm, her muscles clenching against his hand. She could taste herself on his lips, filling her head with the recent memories, almost enough to bring her to her brink again. She long for him to take her again, a sensation made even strong feeling his hardness against her.

Janey angled her head towards the bedside table. Negan smirked again in response. He reached over, pulling open the drawer, and grabbing the nearest foil packet. He stood, shrugging off his jacket, tossing it on the chair behind him. Unbuttoning his jeans almost painfully slow, Janey propped herself up on her elbows , cocked an eyebrow, bringing her knees up just enough to create a tent of fabric at the bottom of her nightie, exposing just enough of herself to him to peak his interest further. Negan let out a pleasured groan at the sight, dropping his jeans to the floor. Janey sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed, snaking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers. She bit her bottom lip and she worked them down, his erection springing out, reddened and already beginning to drip. Janey took the condom from his hand, unwrapping it and sliding it down his shaft. 

Negan leaned forward, pressing himself against his, his mouth connecting with hers, his beard still damp from her arousal. Widening her legs, he settled himself between them, his cock resting against her entrance. She ached for him to fuck her, she’d had shortage of recent partners, but none of them were able to bring her to the heightened pleasure Negan could. And goddamn, did he know it. He pinned her hands above her head, kissing her deeply, deliberately. 

“Negan-” she began. She grinded her hips against his, attempting to guide him into her. Negan grinned. 

“A little impatient, are we?” he smirked. He reached down, placing himself at her opening. He brought his mouth to hers again, unhurriedly, making her even more impatient. She squirmed beneath him.

“Negan, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me-”

He thrust into her, the entire length of his shaft filling her. Janey gasped, moaning loudly with every motion. Negan cupped his hand against the back of her head, pulling her face to his. She moaned against his lips as he pulsed into her leisurely. His other hand explored her body, tracing over every curve, every beckoning inch of her.  

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he whispered breathlessly against her ear. 

Every thrust, not quite fucking, felt careful, almost meticulous, as if he was making up for lost time. Maybe he actually did miss her.

His pace quickened ever so slightly, his own breath become more staggered. Janey bucked her hips against his, her orgasm building again. Negan hands gripped her face tightly, flooding her with ardent kisses. Her legs gripped his sides tightly as heat coursed through her body. Janey gripped his shoulder with one hand, the other steadying herself against the bedframe. With a few frantic thrusts, almost in unison, they both cried out in pleasure as they came in unison, Negan shuddering,  gripping each other as if it was the only thing stopping them from sinking into the earth.

Negan held her close, trying to catch his breath. Small moans escaped Janey’s mouth. The sheets were tangled beneath them, damp with sweat. He laid down beside her, both staring idly towards the ceiling. Exhaustion was close to overtaking him, the buzz from the whiskey had faded and his head had begun to throb. His eyes fluttered close, sleep washing over him.

 

When he awoke, Janey was no longer in bed. The room felt like it was spinning and there was a sour feeling in the hollow of his stomach. Negan staggered to his feet, pulling his boxers back on. Stepping into the hallway, the faint smell of cigarette smoke was lingering. He could see Janey, silhouetted by the glow of the moon, setting on the edge of the open bay window overlooking what she had of a backyard, a cigarette burning in her hand, nearly a half inch of ash lingering from its tip.  Her back was too him as she looking out into the darkness, reminding him of an old gumshoe detective book cover he’d seen when he was a teenager.

“I thought you quit,” he said quietly as he approached her. Janey barely turned her head to acknowledge him. There was a small glass of half drunk whiskey propped precariously on the windowsill. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder, her skin felt chilled from the night air but she didn’t seem to even notice. 

“I can’t keep doing this, Negan,” she said quietly.

“I can hide the rest of them if you want,” he teased, reaching for the open pack beside the glass. She looked over to him, a diffident expression on her face.

“You know what I mean, Negan,” she responded harshly. Negan let out a sigh, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah, I know.” 

Janey turned back to the night, taking a long drag off the smoldering cigarette then snuffing it out  against the brick along the outside of the house.. 

“I take it that, uh, Brad-”

“Brett.”

“Brett, right. Brett ain’t around anymore?”

Janey scoffed.

“Like he’d stick around after what happened.”

“Shit.” He scratched the back of his neck.  “I guess that’s my fault.”

“It was  _ our  _ fault, Negan.” 

He opened his mouth several times to begin to speak, but forming a sentence that wouldn’t potentially fuck up their situation further seemed impossible. Janey let out a long exhale through her nose, picking up the whiskey, and finished off its content in one quick gulp. 

“You want a drink?” She asked, already heading towards the kitchen, knowing the answer. 

Negan couldn’t remember the last thing he’d had to eat and the thought of drinking more made his stomach churn, but he couldn’t deny a beautiful woman’s offer. He never could. Especially with her. 

 

Janey poured a generous amount of liquid into his glass, sliding it over to him before refilling her own. She leaned against the counter, her eyes locked on him. Somehow, now he felt more exposed than he had just hours before when they were actually making love. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. The whiskey sent a shock to his system, his mouth immediately drying out after the first sip. He could feel her eyes on him still. 

“Why now?”

“What?” He cleared his throat, still burning from the drink.

“Why did you show up now, all these months later?”

“I told you. I missed you.”

Janey scoffed again.

“You ‘miss’ me. Right. I’m such an easy mark for you.”

“Janey, you know that’s not it.”

“I must seem so weak to you,” she pat. “You come crawling over here and I just go along with it. Hell, I  _ enabled  _ it.”

“I called you, remember?” He teased. Immediately, he could see tears had begun to well in her eyes. He stood quickly, striding over to her. “Hey, woah, where’d you go, J?” He placed his hands on her shoulder as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. 

“Why is it always you, Negan? It’s always fucking you.” 

“I guess that goes for both of us.”

“C’mon, I know you’ve got your girls spread out around the tri-state area.”

“Yeah, but they ain’t you.” He gave her a hint of a grin. “I was chatting this redhead at the bar tonight, gorgeous thing, huge-”

“Oh, fuck off, Negan.” Janey shrugged off his grip with in impertinent look, but his rested his hand against her arms.

“Janey, listen to me. The whole time I was talking to her, her promising she can show me the best time of my life, which I was starting to believe, it hit me. It fucking hit me. She wasn’t you.” Her head was angled down, refusing to look at him. 

“Hey,” he tipped her head up with his finger. She reluctantly looked up. “She wasn’t you. I just wanted her to be you.”

“Cause I’m such a fucking catch,” she sniffed. She reached for the glass, her finger brushing the rim hard enough to send it careening off the edge of the counter, crashing onto the floor sending shards of glass and whiskey spreading across the floor.

“Fuck!” She yelled, stepping back from the carnage. 

“Woah, woah.” He lifted her effortlessly, placing her on the counter. “Stay there, I got.” He carefully maneuvered around the glass, getting a few dishrags from the rack on the counter. He crouched, resting one rag on top of the liquid, and gingerly picking up the glass pieces. Despite this, he found himself letting out a chuckle.

“What the hell’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he responded, looking up to see the answer didn’t appease her. Her brows were raised questioningly. “Reminds me of how we met.” He dropped the contents of the rag into the garbage can. “Jesus, you still remember that?” 

“Of course I do.” He tossed the soaking cloth into the sink with a smirk. “I could never forget that shit. One of the best nights of my life”


End file.
